


The Venturers

by Merry1978



Series: The Venturers [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Absurdist Comedy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crazy Family Stuff, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Half-Crack, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Fix-It, Humor, Lucius Malfoy's Perfect Parenting (Really!), M/M, Narcissa Malfoy & Headology, Severus Snape & Lucius Malfoy friendship, Severus Snape Teaching Harry Potter, Sirius Black is obsessed with Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merry1978/pseuds/Merry1978
Summary: This is a collection of stories that happened to all the "merry men and women from the Forbidden Forest" before and after the first part of the series. Some of these stories might be canon-compliant (especially those that happened before the events of the 7th book); the sequels are definitely not.The venturer is one who keeps his eye on the hedgerows and wayside groves and meadows while he travels the road to Fortune.~ O. Henry
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black & Severus Snape
Series: The Venturers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689481
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. The Matter of Principle

**Author's Note:**

> While waiting for the first English draft of the chapter 1 for the next Malfoy Family part from my dearest co-translator, holding the fort on quarantine with my husband (yep, we're both working from home, despite our very own grey-eyed blond 5 year-old treasure trying to blow up the apartment)... well, I desperately needed something funny and lighthearted to translate, so I decided to go on with translating this series. I have about ten more ready drabbles written in Russian, but if you have any ideas about what you'd like to read here, please, let me know! I'll be glad to see comments about that.

_If thou of fortune be bereft,  
and in thy store there be but left  
two loaves, sell one, and with the  
dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.  
_~ John Greenleaf Whittier

Most of his life, Severus Snape had been unlucky and more or less miserable, so it seemed strange how things could get even worse. At the moment, however, he felt more destitute than ever before, bereft of fortune, and home, and friends, all in one terrible June night.

He had no hope, no one to talk to and no one to rely on.

Instead, he had principles.

That was why he was sitting on a wet log in the Forbidden Forest under a pouring rain and waiting for Merlin knows what. Waiting, because he had to fulfil the request of the man he had murdered with his own wand four days ago.

“Promise me, Severus,” he had been asked.

So, he had promised. As he always did.

Not before spluttering, and yelling, and cursing a lot, but still, yes, he had given his word.

And so, now he was waiting for the unknown to fall upon his miserable head.

The damp grey sky above split in two with a flash of lightning, and then came the thunder.

“I am so sorry, my dear boy, for making you wait. I was delayed.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Most of his life, Lucius Malfoy was one of the luckiest men on the Earth. He had almost everything one might ever wished for. Except for principles.

That was why he was now sitting in his Azkaban cell and thinking that his perfect wife was even more smart than he ever thought her to be.

He also thought that one day, after leaving this disgusting place, he would make the Dark Lord regret everything the ghastly creature had done to the Malfoy family.

Maybe not immediately.

But he definitely would.

Now Lucius just had to think of the way to force the Dark Lord’s hand and to make him organize the break-out as soon as possible.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

By the time Severus was done with spluttering, and yelling, and cursing, and running around in circles, it was already getting dark.

“Are you warm now?” Albus asked sympathetically.

“No,” Severus snapped, sitting down on the same log again. “Could you please tell me _why_ while dealing with you I always look like an utter idiot in the end?”

“I would never call you an utter idiot,” Albus tried to console him. “Not always, at any rate.”

“Well, half the time, in this case?”

“Oh, Severus...”

“Three times of four, you mean?”

“There’s no need to be so upset, dear boy. You are, and you have always been, a very clever man. And I am tremendously happy to be able to rely on you at all times.”

“I would be happy too were I able to rely on you, too,” Severus grumbled.

Albus sighed.

“Could you please stop pouting, Severus? Would you like me to do something for you? If that might make it easier for you to forgive me, I am ready, and then we could get down to business. Seeing as how these last three days Tommy got lost to all sense of shame entirely.”

Severus contemplated this unexpected offer.

“Are you serious?” he asked at last with no small suspicion.

“Quite serious. I can even take an oath to dispel your doubts,” Albus laughed. “I solemnly swear to fulfil any request of yours if that makes your life easier. What is it that you wish for, Severus?”

“For you to break Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban. Will you do even that for me, I wonder?”

Albus stopped laughing and stared at him keenly.

“Well, if you are really _sure_ that will make your life _easier_ , I most certainly will.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

By the time Lucius stopped laughing in delight, Severus had already done almost half of the work needed to make a primitive dug-out hut.

“It’s ingenious! The Lord believes I am in Azkaban, and in Azkaban they believe I am at the Dark Lord’s side. Perfect. Now, I get some well-earned rest at last.”

“Well-earned?” Severus grumbled, still digging. “I don’t think you have ever earned anything in all your sorry pampered life.”

“Now, now,” Lucius admonished with a brilliant smile. “Don’t be jealous, it’s unbecoming. By the way, was there any real need to blindfold me during our escape? I am not afraid of heights. Why would you do that?”

“It was a matter of principle,” Severus snapped. The last thing Albus and he needed was for Lucius to know who had actually broken him out of one of the best-guarded wizarding gaols in broad daylight.

“Bah!” said Lucius. “You and your principles.”

“You say that only because you wouldn’t recognize one if it walked up to you and gave you a black eye.”

“Wouldn’t that rather be somebody of the likes of Arthur Weasley or Sirius Black?” Lucius inquired lazily.

This time, Severus ignored him and went on digging.

“By the way,” Lucius continued thoughtfully after a small pause, “if I don’t have principles that’s because I don’t actually need them.”

“And why is that?” Severus asked acidly, straightening up and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Because I have you instead,” Lucius answered, laughing again. “You have more than enough for both of us.”

“Hasn’t anybody told you about laughing too much before breakfast and all that? What are you laughing about this time, anyway?”

“Oh, I have more than enough reasons for being cheerful. One of them is that you seem to be almost finished with that fanciful dwelling that we are supposed to use from now on. Are you sure it must look like this, however? One would think it might look better with some kind of roof on it.”

Severus swore and threw away the shovel. Not even at Lucius’s laughing face, despite his first impulse to do just that.

And, strangely, he felt better immediately. Being not the only utter idiot in the middle of things somehow, indeed, made his life easier.


	2. The Matter of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the fateful autumn of 1981. Lucius is worried and forced to seek help from unexpected sources. As a result, he finds more than he could imagine.

_Love, love changes everything._

~ Don Black & Charles Hart

For many years now, Nicolas Flamel has been living a quiet life, quite content with the company of his beloved wife, his alchemy and, sometimes, with occasional visits of his rare friends. (After the first two of three hundreds of years, getting new friends starts being difficult, but he still managed sometimes. Yet, they were indeed _rare_.)

Now, however, he had in his parlour an uninvited, unexpected, and unknown, not to mention rather presumptuous guest, and his curiosity was piqued, despite everything. The blond young man first took a seat, posturing as if he owned the world, and now looked like his armchair could bite him at any moment.

“So,” Nicolas said, “what is it that you have come to ask me for?”

The guest’s face suddenly closed up like an oyster, as he tried to project independence and impassivity.

“I would be much obliged to you, sir,” he said with a smooth politeness, “if you could at the earliest opportunity remind your highly respected colleague, Albus Dumbledore, about my young friend. Said friend is now in Azkaban, waiting for his trial.”

Nicolas’s brow went a bit up.

“You don’t say so! And that young man you obviously care so much about... isn’t he one of those... what are they called now? some kind of death worshippers, Death Eaters if I am not mistaken.”

“You are not. And he is.”

“How curious. Must I assume that you belong to the aforementioned youth organization yourself, too?”

The visitor went still for a moment, then nodded.

“In this case,” Nicolas continued, “why do you seek Dumbledore’s help? As you are not arrested or persecuted yourself, you must still have enough opportunities to assist your friend, after all.”

“Unfortunately, my hands are tied,” the visitor answered. “My friend had the imprudence to ask other people for help. As a result, it has been more than two weeks since he had been arrested. And such a stay in Azkaban cannot be good for his health.”

“It’s all rather regrettable, but in what way does all this concern me?”

“I am quite sure you underestimate your influence, sir. And I would be very much obliged if you could somewhat... urge on the powers that be.”

“Name at least one compelling reason for me to comply, and I might... consider your request,” Nicolas answered, pinning the young man with a scrutinizing stare.

The visitor frowned.

“I am confident that my friend’s prolonged stay in Azkaban will cause great harm not only to him,” he answered at last. “So, it would be in the best interests of... _all_ the concerned parties to free my friend as soon as possible.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Albus Dumbledore was having a tiring, unsatisfying and mostly trivial day as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as well as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he suddenly got a fire-call from one of his oldest friends. That is to say, the oldest one of the rare category of people who had once managed to worm themselves into his heart and had obstinately stayed there, despite everything. As a result, those were usually the same people who also managed to get under his skin on a regular basis.

“Albus, my dear boy. I had a most intriguing visitor today. Would you like to guess who it was?”

“I wouldn’t even try, Nicolas,” Albus answered impatiently. He had no time and no wish for social calls at the moment. “So, who was it?”

“You’re always the same,” Flamel complained. “Wouldn’t spare a moment to entertain an old man, would you?”

Albus sighed.

“All right, all right. Was it... Millicent Bagnold?”

“You are cold. What would that nice old lady want from me?” Nicolas Flamel laughed.

“Hm... Crouch Senior?”

“Now you are freezing.”

“All right, I give up.”

“I knew that! All right, all right, I will stop torturing you. It was Malfoy Junior.”

For a moment, Albus was actually speechless.

“It was _who?_ ”

“The young Malfoy. Lucius.”

“Why would Lucius Malfoy visit you? What did he want?” For the first time since the start of their banter, Albus felt not only interested, but genuinely amazed.

“Why, he wanted to talk, of course.”

Albus sighed in desperation.

“If I am going to die prematurely, Nicolas, that would be due to your inimitable way of keeping up the conversation. That the young man wanted to talk to you, I can guess. But what could he want to talk _about_?”

Nicolas snorted.

“Nonsense. For almost half a century I try to convince you that even if you are going to die prematurely, that would not be for long. As to this rather flamboyant young man, he is making efforts on behalf of another youth that you should know well enough if I understood him correctly. That other youth has been suffering in Azkaban for more than two weeks, as I am told, while you are supposed to take care of his fate.”

Now, that was unexpected... even if rather logical in a roundabout sort of way.

“And what have you to do with it, may I ask?” Albus inquired at last.

“As you know perfectly well, I have nothing to do with anything these days. Yet, I was asked to talk to you.”

“Well, so...?”

“So, here I am, talking.”

“Well, and what do you suggest I do now?” Albus asked.

Nicolas shrugged.

“Do exactly what you think best, of course. Just as usual.”

“Oh, Merlin’s beard, Nick!” Albus lost his patience. “Do you think I am sitting here twiddling my thumbs from dawn to dusk? I have more than enough things on my plate, to a great measure thanks to Severus Snape himself and his life choices, by the way. I am still not sure he deserves my efforts, but I do all that I can. Bartemius Crouch, however, is a stubborn man. So, without the full trial before the Wizengamot, I can achieve nothing. And that takes _time_.”

Nickolas nodded.

“That I can understand. All right, when the young man visits, I’ll try to explain the situation to him and advise him to have patience.”

Albus frowned in thought. Up to this time, he had thought Lucius Malfoy to be one of those typical pure-blood scions that either could not find courage to make their own mind on things or were as prejudiced and thick-headed as their forbearers. Or both. He vaguely remembered some rather idiotic letters from Lucius with the demands to remove some books from Hogwarts library. He had a lot of fun answering them but did not pay any real attention to their author.

Had he been mistaken? Was there something to Lucius Malfoy that he had missed?

“Do you think he will visit again?” he asked.

Nicolas shrugged again.

“He most probably will, especially if that trial is delayed.”

“And does he seem to have any... plans? Some designs on Severus Snape?”

Was it some new political plot?

“What do you mean?” This time, it was Nicolas who frowned, as if momentarily puzzled. “Oh. No, I don’t think he does. He is just very worried on behalf of his friend.”

“Who would have thought,” Albus said dryly.

“Nellie tells me he has a wonderful smile,” Nicolas answered with a seeming non sequitur, yet the quiet laughter in the corner of his eye showed that he knew exactly what he was doing. That meddling old geezer, Albus thought with a sudden affection. Always getting his own way while managing to cheer his opponents up in the process. On the second thought, wasn’t that the ambition of all the sentient beings? Well, two could play this game.

“Really?” he asked calmly.

“Really.”

“And how Lucius reacted to Nellie?”

Now, Nicolas laughed out loud.

“Oh, that’s the best of it. He did not notice her looks _at all_.”

Albus stared.

“Nick, I met Nellie many times. It is unbelievable. It is impossible not to notice her looks. Even for me if you know what I mean.”

“Well, Nellie tells me he managed it all right. He seemed rather charmed and was charming himself, but paid no attention to her appearances. Nellie even changed her hair colour a couple of times while they talked, yet he didn’t bat an eye.”

“Is he mentally distracted? Or out of his mind?” Albus still could not believe his ears, and Nicolas laughed again.

“He is absolutely normal. The boy just has a lot on his mind right now. He has a young wife at home, and a spoiled eighteen-month son, and overbearing parents, and his best friend is locked up in Azkaban.”

“How do you know all that?” Albus asked suspiciously.

“I always pay attention to my guests, you know.”

Again, for a long moment, Albus was silent contemplating this new information.

“So,” he said at last. “If I understand it right, both you and Nellie _liked_ Lucius Malfoy, and now you want me to look after him too, as well as after Severus Snape.”

“Albus, my boy, you know I stopped wanting anything from you long ago.”

“Oh yes. Yes, I know,” Albus said dryly, taking great efforts to hide his rediscovered good humour and knowing perfectly well that he had failed from the start. “All right, Nick, that I can do.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“You look like death warmed over, Sev. You need to get out more.”

The sickly green beam of the Killing Curse smashed into the door frame right above Lucius’ head, shattering the wood into splinters.

“Well, there you are,” Lucius said reproachfully. “You can’t even hit a man three yards away. Lying all day long is bad for your health. You need fresh air.”

Severus Snape grumbled something unintelligible about friends in need, self-appointed doctors and keeping them away with an apple thrown to the aforementioned friends’ eyes. However, these pitiful attempts at intimidation left Lucius totally unconcerned.

“Stop wallowing in self-pity. And in bed, too. Rise and get dressed. If you insist on looking miserable, you might leave your stubble. And don’t tarry, we are expected to be on time.”

“On time where?” Severus sat up on his bed, showing at last a tiny bit of interest.

“Oh, just a small visit, but you will like it. I have accidently made an acquaintance with a wonderful lady. You might even call it love on first sight, I think.”

“Are you _mad_? Cissy will kill you.”

“No, she won’t. The lady in question is six hundred sixty years old.” Seized by horror, Severus stared at his friend who continued without paying any attention to his dismay. “And she can turn things into gold. Almost any things, Sev, can you imagine?”

“I imagine,” said Severus slowly, “that this trick is mastered by every Hogwarts student by the end of the third year, with some rare obtuse exceptions.”

“Oh, you just don’t understand, do you?” Lucius sing-songed in a dreamy, almost tender voice. “She knows how to do it _permanently_.”


End file.
